A Fisherman's Sonata
by Turkish
Summary: This is just a little fic about what Laguna would be doing about ten years before some of those flashbacks Squall had. Perhaps he would be a fisherman...


1 Fisherman's Sonata  
  
Laguna rowed his boat ashore. He was just out at sea trying to catch some fish for once this time of year. For some reason spring was the worst time to try and catch fish. He saw other lucky fishermen. Why wasn't he one of them? He took out his journal as he docked his small, one-man fishing boat. He wrote down the different aspects of the "Horizon". He wrote about its beautiful sunrises and speaking waves. He scratched something out as he wrote. He was not happy with his writing. Perhaps poetry wasn't his thing. Perhaps he should try just non-fiction trying to compile parts of his fisherman life. He shook his head. He knew people would not want to read about a seventeen-year-old fisherman. However, people read all sorts of things these days. He got out of his boat and walked over to the lift. He centered himself on the lift and let himself rise skyward.  
  
Once on the higher level he rushed to his normal spot. He went to where you could see any ship going into the harbor. It was probably the only point like it in the whole city of Fisherman's Horizon. He was proud to live there. He looked down at the docks below him. He saw machines hauling cargo out of ships and putting them on the dock. He saw tired out men sitting on benches. He saw tons of activity going on in such a small place. Men with forgotten pasts, growing futures, and troubled presents. All sorts of men past through the horizon. He tried to see all the incoming ships. He tried to imagine himself on a large, free, great ship that could sail to everywhere he had ever dreamed. To the glossy towers of the futuristic city Ester and the quaint village of Balamb. He wanted to go everywhere and see everything. From where he was on the archway when ships could dock and pass through he almost felt like he could see anything. He felt like he was the only man in the world. He heard footsteps behind him. He whirled around careful not to fall off the edge. A man in a sort of tunic and brown shoes tapped behind Laguna. He short silver hair slicked back on his head and his beard was nicely trimmed. He scowled at Laguna.  
  
"Boy… How many times do I tell you come straight to me after you are finished."  
  
Laguna advised himself away from turning back away and gazing at the horizon. The man shook his head.  
  
"Did you catch anything today, boy?" he asked with sympathy in his voice  
  
He knew this boy was not one to keep with rules and regulations. He was not the kind of boy who tried pleasing men by doing everything right. He tried to astound them with his dreams.  
  
"Not a thing, sir. Not a single fish." Laguna replied obviously sad he had not lived up to his master's expectations.  
  
The old man just looked up the sky but said nothing. He knew this boy would try and become a rebel. He knew he could not stay focused. He knew that it was wrong to trust Laguna with running the fishing business. He would not feel like that was his calling forever. He would someday want to be free… Like the wind. He started intently into Laguna's eyes. He looked for any mocking. Any untruths. He found none. He put his hand on Laguna's shoulder.  
  
"Go back to my house and wash up. I shall serve dinner soon." Said the old man  
  
He smiled at him and rushed passed the man. He ran to toward the center of the city. He still smelt the salt in his nostrils as he rushed in the direction of the man's house. He could almost see the food already. His mouth watered at the thought. As he got to the house he creaked the door open. It was quite a simple house. Just a wooden house with a wooden roof and wooden floors. It was small and quaint. It was a nice place to live. He went inside and went up the creaky stairs to his room. He pulled out his notebook once again. He thought of his day… His wonderful view. His breathtaking sunrise before the day had even started. He remembered it in awe. His notebook was open as his hand took on a mind of it's own and began composing prose and poetry like Laguna was not sure he had. In the end it looked somewhat like this…  
  
The howling of the waves.  
  
The glaring of the sunlight.  
  
The piercing of it's rays.  
  
The awe of this sight.  
  
A divine painting.  
  
A wonderful scene.  
  
The salt from the ocean.  
  
The sun's powerful gleam.  
  
The beauty of the daytime.  
  
The radiance of the moon.  
  
The greatness of the picture  
  
The painting of a Fisherman's June.  
  
Ships of wood and metal.  
  
Coming from afar.  
  
Goods of to and fro  
  
Unloaded on mats of tar.  
  
Sunrise, Sunset  
  
Beauty does not have a price.  
  
He finished his work. He was proud of it. It was something like he had never written before. Something that showed he really could be a writer. He then heard a knock on his door. He jumped slightly. The old man peaked his head in.  
  
"It is time for dinner now, boy." He spoke as he withdrew his head from the door  
  
"Yes sir." Laguna replied as he closed his notebook and went down for dinner.  
  
Laguna went out later that night. He went to see the midnight of the Fisherman's Horizon. He stopped by in a place called "The Moonlight Bar". It supposedly had the moonlight shining right through it's windows. He was comfortable being in a place with such a claim. With such otherworldly qualities almost. He set his notebook down on the table. He opened it to his poem. He scribbled a title at the top. A Fisherman's Sonata. He closed the book once again. He looked out the windows of the bar. He saw that it really was true. The bar had a perfect view of the moon. He gazed at it for a long while. His eyelids began to get heavy. He then dozed off.  
  
Laguna awoke the next day in the bar at the same table. He looked for his notebook. It was in the same place he left it. He didn't check inside though. He didn't check his paper with his poem on it.  
  
A man sat in a bar in Timber. It was a small bar with a strange group of patrons. His head had a thin layer of hair on top and on the top of his round nose sat a pair of eye-glasses. He sipped from his beer. He was on his way to Balamb Garden to try for the headmaster job open there. He was going to take the train from Timber to Balamb. He opened his paper and looked through it. He looked for anything of interest to him. He say one column. The title was quite simple. Apparently the author had not wished to have been named. All that he saw was A Fisherman's Sonata. Cid looked it over for length and seeing as he had quite enough time to read it in before he left he began to read. 


End file.
